


Rematch

by softmorts



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Frottage, I hope this doesn't suck, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, Yaaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softmorts/pseuds/softmorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross beats Arin at Mario Kart. Arin doesn't like it. Arin challenges Ross to a rematch. They drink a lot of soda. Shit happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rematch

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty so I've never written this ship before so hopefully it doesn't suck. Yay?

   He doesn’t know how it happened. He was in first place just a second ago, and then Ross just _had_ to go and hit him with that godforsaken blue shell. _Ross_. _Of all people_. He grimaces, pushing harder on the A button, knowing full-well that that will do absolutely nothing for his speed (or lack thereof).

 

   “ _FUCK_!” he stands up and throws his hands in the air, almost chucking the DS away, Ross’ laughter invading his brain. He whirls around and points a finger. “Not funny, dude, I was _way_ ahead of you until you got that blue shell, you cheating-ass motherfucker!”

 

   Ross just laughs harder, throwing his head back with a hearty chuckle. “Dude! Your- your _face_! AHAHAHAHHHH!!” He pretends (probably) to wipe a tear from his eye, and sighs, an occasional giggle making its way out of his mouth.

 

   Arin slumps back down into his pillow, sulkily. Ross pats his cheek and coos at him. “You wanna have a wematch, Awin?” he lisps, grinning like a dog that just figured out how to open the biscuit cupboard.

 

   “Sure. You’re on!” Arin sits back up again, with renewed vigour and a determined expression on his face. He presses start.

 

***

 

   Four hours later, they’ve played god knows how many rounds of Mario Kart and they both have aching fingers and full bladders from all the soda they’ve been chugging. Ross has been moaning non-stop for about forty-five minutes now, and it’s really starting to drive Arin up the walls. And the worst thing? He’s not entirely sure it’s in a bad way. _Sure_ , they’ve had the not-so-rare heated glance that lasted a minute too long, the second where one of them catches the other staring at them for a little too long when they thought they wouldn’t get caught - but never anything overly _sexual_ … right? This is new to him. He lets out a puff of air through his nose, and tries to concentrate on the game (and also on not popping a boner and/or peeing himself). It’s hard work.

 

   It takes five more minutes before he’s had enough. Ross whines his name as he wins the race against him by barely a second, and it goes straight to his dick. Growling, he flips the lid of his own DS down and grabs Ross’, doing the same and setting them haphazardly on the floor before grabbing Ross by the hips and pulling him onto his lap. The other teen gasps in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders for balance.

 

   “Do you have any _fucking_ idea what your moans are doing to me, Ross?” Arin growls into his ear, grinding up against him, letting him know just how badly he’s been affected.

 

   “Oh, Jesus, Arin…” Ross gasps, rocking down into him, throwing his lips against Arin’s own, gripping the headboard with shaking fingers, trying to get a hold on anything, _anything_ , to give him sweet relief. He moans against Arin’s lips, their tongues frantically searching each other out, breath escaping in quick gasps.

 

   “Fuck, Ross, want you so bad,” Arin mumbles into the kiss. He runs a hand through Ross’ hair, the other resting on his ass.

 

   “Wait, Arin, shit - I gotta pee man, I gotta-”

 

   “Do it here.” Arin’s voice is low, yet commanding. Ross feels a wave of arousal slam into him and his dick twitches, a whine escaping his mouth.

 

   “Shit, you sure? Like, you want me to piss on you?”

 

   Arin nods his head. “Fuck yeah, I want you to piss yourself. C’mon baby, would you do that for me?”

 

   “Arin, fuck…” Ross presses forwards into him harder, unable to stop thrusting completely, as he tries to relax his bladder. Arin’s hand is on his back, holding him, and the other suddenly presses into his bladder, the pressure forcing a moan out of him as a small amount of pee makes its way out. That’s all it takes before it’s unstoppable; his boxers cling to him and Arin looks up with searing heat in his eyes as the wet patch spreads, increasing the friction between their cocks. It takes Ross a few seconds to realise that Arin’s let go as well, the second he’s finishes he pulls him up to kiss him and take his shirt off because damn, why didn’t he do that already? Arin returns the favour and after they’ve freed themselves of their pants and boxers they collapse back onto the bed, Ross grabbing both their dicks in his hand and pumping them furiously.

 

   “Jesus, Ross, you’re so fucking gorgeous…” Arin pants, thrusts becoming erratic as he approaches his climax. Ross just whines, a cry suddenly ripping its way from deep inside him as he spills over Arin’s stomach without warning, Arin following seconds later. Ross collapses onto him, mouth hanging open as he attempts to get his breath back.

 

   “Holy shit,” he gasps. “Holy _shit_. Fuck me, Arin, that was… oh my god. Holy shit. Fuck me.”

 

   “Maybe next time, baby,” Arin murmurs into his neck, arms wrapped around him.

 

    _Next time_. That sounds promising.

 

  
END.


End file.
